


My dear Nonno

by N_o1



Category: non-fiction creative writing - Fandom
Genre: Gen, non-fiction creative writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N_o1/pseuds/N_o1
Kudos: 2





	My dear Nonno

**My dear Nonno**

Tuesday, late evening, Dawson College’s library. I’m here sitting in _panic_ admiring the ceiling whilst trying to figure out how to write my first creative non-fiction essay. This place that was once a Gothic church has now become a beautiful and tenebrous library and I’m hanging here hoping for a miraculous inspiration. Thoughts and memories like an endless stream flow through my mind, aided by the macabre almost magic atmosphere. Only one image seems to be static.

My Grandfather.

The most honest, proud, hard worker and bright person I ever met. The person who helped me to become the man that I am today. The person who taught me how to read and write at early age. The person who supported me through difficulties... The person who loved me the most.

It was a Thursday morning. As always, I stopped by my grandparents’ house to say hello and to check if they needed anything. I have a copy of the keys so I opened the door and walked right in. The scene was... horrendous.

My grandfather covered in blood and totally speechless is in the bathroom with the door open staring at the mirror. Tap sink mirror towels walls, all stained with red vivid blood. My grandmother is laying on the sofa covered in blood too and completely silent. My only thought was

“What the hell happened here??”.

In the mid 60’s my grandfather started working in one of the many factories in town. At the time work safety regulations were almost inexistent. Most of the labourers worked exposed to every kind of dangers ranging from harsh chemicals to unsafe procedures. Some of them had heavy injuries, some others —like my grandfather— developed various problems as they aged, from blindness to mental illnesses or tumours.

As I was trying to wrap my head around what could have happened, my grandfather turned towards me and smiled. The only thing I was able to say was “Tutto a posto Nó?!” (“all good grandpa?!”). Grandpa without flinching replied “I just cut my self whilst shaving, don’t worry”. At that point my Grandma got up and greeted me like nothing had happened.

Probably because of the _shock_ , old memories and feelings were recalled back in my mind and started to form a vivid image in front of my eyes. Like in a daydream, nostalgia brought me back in time.

It was a nice and sunny day of summer and everything was full of life. My mother had just left and Grandpa and I were in the garden behind the house. The fresh breeze before the sunset mixed with the sweet smell from the ripe fruits sitting on the threes waiting to be picked and turned into preserves.Grandpa lifted me an putted me on his shoulders “are you ready to go young man?? Today you will help me in the garden!”.

“ _How can a three years old help you_ _N_ _onno_ _?”_

Grandpa wanted to turn the soil so he placed me on the top of an old rag the we used to dessicate the beans, “seat here now and get ready for helping me”. I was sitting right under the old plum tree that Grandpa planted when he moved in this house. All around me there were bright flowers and the plums were so mature that I could almost smell the sweetness from under the three. I watched my grandfather working whilst teaching me the names of the plants. As grandpa finished to turn the soil a thin summer rain started as if someone was ready to water the prepared ground. Grandpa quickly putted me back on his shoulders but at that point the thin rain had become a thunderstorm. As we ran back in the house, Grandpa said “thanks for you help son, I would have felt lonely without you”. As soon as he finished to speak a lightning appeared and a thunder cracked in the sky.

In the same way, the _fear_ that brought me in that daydream flung me back to reality.

I calmed down only when it became clear that I hadn’t witnessed an attempted homicide.

Turned out that my grandfather had cut him self multiple times whilst shaving and my grandmother in a vain attempt to help him had felt unwell at the sight of blood and had almost fainted. At which point my grandfather helped her to lay down on the sofa.

A truly amazing way to start my day… with a massive _scare_ … and only one question in my mind

“Why all this had to happen?”.

That Thursday, the effects of many years of work in the factory suddenly started to worsen. His sight and hearing were already heavily damaged and he realised that he wasn’t able to shave him self any more.

Since I was three, I used to spend every summer at my grandparents’ house. I can still clearly remember the fresh breeze from under the walnuts three’s shadow where we use to spend the hot mid-afternoons. Every time, Grandpa and I played draughts and he would always win. One day, I was so upset that I shouted “C’mon that’s unfair Grandpa! Why do you always win!?!”. Grandpa started to laugh and calmly answered “It takes a lot of time and effort to achieve something in life. If you really want to win you must keep playing”. I played with him for years, until one day I was able to finally win. As I raised my eyes from the board I look into Grandpa’s eyes and I realised that he was even happier than me about my victory. As usual, a summer storm forced us to run back home.

_What a beautiful way to introduce me to the harsh reality of life…_

In the meanwhile my grandparents got changed and soon after I helped them cleaning up the mess.

We spent the whole afternoon sitting near the old red bricks fireplace.

Lively flames were dancing on the burning wood as driven by the crackling sound of the sparks. The soft warmth generated was keeping us company whilst slowly turning the wood into ashes. The same ashes that one day would have gone back to feed the soil allowing further life to spawn.

Grandpa tried to explain me what happened with a smile but his sadness was clearly perceptible. I knew, my turn to help him back had come and I wanted to take up that task with great pleasure and honour. Without thinking twice, I stood up from the wooden chair and told him “I think you need your personal barber. Do you want to hire me???”.

Grandpa stood up and with tearful eyes replied “If you don’t mind, I’ll be very happy to hire you”. I hugged him with all my strength.

Every Thursday afternoon became _reserved_ to his shave. I still remember the first shave and since then the routine never changed until I left for the UK.

Around 3 p.m., Grandpa was patiently waiting for me and as soon I walked in he started to setup an old comfy chair with extra pillows and towels. Later, he prepared a small basin with hot water and seated on the chair waiting for me to start. After getting ready, I changed the razor blade and applied an hot towel on his face. At last, I started to prepare the foam.

The brand’s name on the shaving soap cup had been worn over time and the enamel on the old brush’s handle was completely cracked, someone else would have thrown them away. Still, they performed their tasks perfectly.

As I started to mix the soap with hot water, the brush became soft again and an intense smell of eucalyptus and mint pervaded the room. Once finished, I placed a big towel around his neck, removed the hot one and slowly started to apply the fresh foam.

Every cut of the razor seemed heavy like I was trying to chop bristles from a brush. Shave after shave, his beard had become like iron as if ageing would have meant for him having to face always more challenges, even from a simple shave. This time he wasn’t alone, I was there to support him, I was there to help him. As soon as I finished to shave him, Grandpa stroke his face and said “I must admit you’re better than a barber” and I replied “only the best for my favourite customer”. At last, I applied the aftershave, my job was done and Grandpa was happy. I removed the towel and he was good to go.

Grandma started calling us, “the food is ready!! and is getting cold!!! C’MON!!!!”.

She was getting really pissed… Again I _panicked_ _._

The professor is calling me, it’s time to go. I snap back to the cruel reality. Somehow my essay has been completed. I’m here again, back in the library, with a six pages essay written, right in front of me. Thank you Nonno. Thanks for helping me again when I needed it the most.

Grandpa passed away in 2018 on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to be close to him during his last moments _(I’ll regret_ _it_ _for the rest of my_ _life_ _)_ but his vivid image will be always impressed in my mind as an indelible picture .

This work has been rewritten almost from scratches after my first draft got lost because an hard disk failure ( _bonus lesson learned:_ _always_ _buy good_ _SSDs_ ). I was able to rewrite everything because all the memories and teachings that he gave me will be forever with me.

_In memory of my beloved grandfather._ _Ciao Nonno!_


End file.
